Outside the outpatient department, Quan Yu finished his phone call and stood on the steps, lighting a cigarette. His powerful aura made everyone who passed by unconsciously give him a wide berth.
After taking only a few puffs, someone approached him, their tone exceptionally polite, "President Quan, what an honor. Why didn't you call me?"
Quan Yu glanced up. The man wore gold-rimmed glasses, and his short, sparse, salt-and-pepper hair was combed immaculately. Dressed in a blue and white striped shirt, he exuded a scholarly air.
"Director Hong." Quan Yu had an impression of him. He was the vice-president of this hospital, in his fifties, and they had met on some occasions.
"Is President Quan here to visit a patient?" The hospital had invited an expert from Beijing for a lecture that afternoon. It had just ended, and Director Hong was about to escort the expert to their hotel when he spotted the magnate standing on the steps of the outpatient entrance.
